


new head filled up with smoke

by cuttothequickk



Series: makedamnsure [8]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Orihara Izaya Is a Mess, References to Drugs, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 14:58:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttothequickk/pseuds/cuttothequickk
Summary: “I’m not stressed,” Izaya says. “My head is fucking—it won’t fucking stop,” Izaya gasps, fumbling with the unlit cigarette in his hands and accidentally dropping it off the balcony to the street below. Shizuo covers Izaya’s trembling, outstretched hand with his own and pulls their joined hands to wrap around Izaya, and Izaya shivers hard and spins so his face is buried in Shizuo’s chest.“Fuck,” Izaya says, ragged, and Shizuo holds him tight.





	new head filled up with smoke

**Author's Note:**

> wooooowwwwwwww so yeah I have more of these and just got so distracted by other stuff to actually edit and post them but HERE HAVE THIS because Izaya's birthday is tomorrow and I'm literally in Shinjuku right now while I post this and I'm staying in a place that's like right by where Izaya's apartment would be and I'm like. WHATEVER WELCOME BACK TO SHIZAYA HELL.

“Izaya? You here?” Shizuo calls into Izaya’s apartment, dim in the mellow evening light. There’s no sign of Izaya anywhere, and as Shizuo steps inside the apartment, he smells a whiff of smoke, the same scent that clings in his own hair and clothes for a while after a cigarette, the same scent that Izaya always claims to hate so fervently.

 

But Shizuo hasn’t had a cigarette in hours—he’s kind of craving one right now, actually—so it’s unlikely that the scent is coming from him. And Izaya doesn’t smoke, aside from the couple of times Shizuo has seen him snag the cigarette from between Shizuo’s own lips and take a short drag.

 

“Izaya?” Shizuo calls again, stepping out of his shoes and hanging his coat on the hooks mounted on the wall. It’s the end of summer now, and Tokyo is cooler at night once the sun goes down. Shizuo isn’t wearing his bartender getup today, his plain black Henley and tight-ish jeans more comfortable now that he’s off work for the weekend. He steps further into the apartment and looks around, but the lights are all off, even upstairs.

 

As Shizuo turns towards the kitchen, he gets another whiff of cigarette smoke, and he frowns and heads into the alcove off the main living room. The balcony door is open, which is strange because he’s never seen Izaya even glance towards the patio he has out there, not that Shizuo has been over here enough times to really know. The visits have been happening more frequently in recent weeks, but he can still count them on just his right hand.

 

Although actually, now that he thinks about it, tonight makes six. Six times he’s been here in this apartment, even if he’s only stayed overnight twice. He’s smart enough not to get his hopes up that tonight will make three.

 

As Shizuo steps out onto the balcony, he almost expects to see someone else there with Izaya, maybe one of Izaya’s yakuza clients or even Namie, but instead there’s just the solitary figure of a small twentysomething dressed in black jeans and a black short-sleeved shirt, no jacket on for once, his frame draped over the railing to peer down at the street below and a half-gone cigarette held delicately in his right hand. Izaya doesn’t look up or even shift against the rail, his head tipped down in a way that says something is wrong.

 

“Hey, what’s up, ‘Zaya,” Shizuo murmurs, the words not even really a question, just a gentle tug to pull Izaya back up to the surface, to keep him steady, because Shizuo has seen him get like this before, and it makes his chest ache with concern and blooming affection.

 

Izaya’s chin lifts a little at the sound of Shizuo’s voice, his eyes going to the cigarette as if he’s only just remembered he had it, and he moves fast to crush it out in the plate he’s using as an ashtray.

 

“Hey, I would’ve smoked that,” Shizuo says, voice gentle because he doesn’t care. He kind of likes the idea of Izaya as a smoker, actually.

 

Izaya looks startled all of a sudden, even though he hadn’t a minute ago when Shizuo had first appeared, and Shizuo feels the sudden urge to go to him, so he does. He wraps Izaya’s frozen frame in his arms, resting his chin on Izaya’s bowed head and staring out at the city below.

 

Izaya twists in his arms and pulls another cigarette out of the pack resting next to his makeshift ashtray, and then he’s resting back against Shizuo’s chest as he fits the cigarette to his lips and lights it, inhaling a deep drag and holding it in his lungs for a few long seconds before blowing smoke out into the falling night.

 

“Is it helping?” Shizuo asks, tightening his arms around Izaya’s waist. He drops a kiss into Izaya’s hair as the informant takes another long drag, tension holding his shoulders tight despite the nicotine that should be calming his overactive mind. It must be a worse night than Shizuo’s seen before if Izaya is this quiet, this not-there.

 

“Now, maybe,” Izaya says, his left hand coming up to clutch at Shizuo’s wrist as he takes another drag of the cigarette, his meaning clear enough in the way he leans heavily against his companion, like it’s only Shizuo’s presence that makes the nicotine count for something.

 

Shizuo reaches for the cigarette with the hand that Izaya isn’t holding and Izaya lets it go, his tension still present but maybe not so intense, and Shizuo closes his eyes in relief as he take a drag of familiar smoke and feels the nicotine swirl through his veins.

 

“Did you steal these from me?” He asks as he releases the first delicious drag, immediately inhaling again and reveling in the feeling. The cigarette is almost gone, so he stubs it out and grabs the pack to light another.

 

“Mm,” Izaya hums. Shizuo does remember a pack disappearing a couple of days ago, but he had figured he’d just lost it or left it at Shinra’s or something. Then he realizes that if Izaya took these two days ago, he must have been feeling like shit since Wednesday at least, especially considering half the pack is already gone and it was full when it had disappeared.

 

But: “You came to my apartment and stole cigarettes but you didn’t wait around for me?” Shizuo hopes the tone sounds confused, curious—not judgmental or angry. Izaya stiffens a little in his arms, and Shizuo leans down to press a kiss to Izaya’s temple before he takes another drag of his cigarette.

 

“You weren’t there. I waited a couple…I waited for a while,” Izaya whispers, reaching for the cigarette and putting it to his lips for a long inhale after Shizuo has released it.

 

Shizuo thinks back to Wednesday. “Oh, fuck. That was the night I was out with Kasuka. Fuck, I forgot to tell you.”

 

Izaya shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

 

“You could have called me, you know,” Shizuo murmurs. “I would’ve come home.” He ignores the way that kind of sounds like their home is in only one place, a place where they’re together. Izaya doesn’t seem to notice the words at all.

 

“It’s okay,” Izaya says after a couple of minutes wherein Shizuo smokes silently, his craving subsided for now. “Hey, don’t have all of it,” Izaya says, but Shizuo is already crushing out the butt in the ashtray.

 

“Sorry,” Shizuo says, Izaya reaching for the pack and going for another cigarette. Shizuo grabs his wrist. “Hey, wait. I know you feel like crap, ‘Zaya, but you have to be careful with those. Or you’ll wind up like me,” Shizuo adds, hoping the joke will make Izaya feel better about being given advice from his whatever-the-fuck-they-are-now. Izaya hates being given advice or being told what to do, but Shizuo figures he might get away with it this time just because Izaya probably really doesn’t want to become an addict.

 

“I’ve been smoking them for two and a half days, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, voice petulant, stiffening in Shizuo’s grasp and dropping the hand that was clutching Shizuo’s wrist. Fuck, he definitely didn’t like the advice. “I’m probably addicted already.”

 

“If you are, it’ll be easier to quit now,” Shizuo insists. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I promise. I just don’t want you to get mad at yourself when you feel better and you suddenly crave a cigarette. And besides, there are probably—no, definitely—better ways to relieve stress.”

 

“I’m not stressed,” Izaya says. “My head is fucking—it won’t fucking stop,” Izaya gasps, fumbling with the unlit cigarette in his hands and accidentally dropping it off the balcony to the street below. Shizuo covers Izaya’s trembling, outstretched hand with his own and pulls their joined hands to wrap around Izaya, and Izaya shivers hard and spins so his face is buried in Shizuo’s chest.

 

“Fuck,” Izaya says, ragged, and Shizuo holds him tight.

 

“Come on. Come inside with me,” Shizuo says, a request and not a command, and Izaya nods into his chest but doesn’t lift his head. Shizuo smiles. “Let me carry you,” he murmurs, the words pressed carefully into Izaya’s dark hair. Shizuo is pushing his luck with this one. He knows it might be risky to suggest it, might send Izaya spiraling away from him (and isn’t that a terrifying image, the edge of the balcony looming right behind them). But he hopes Izaya will recognize the sincerity in the plea, will understand that he’s not doing it just for Izaya or just for himself, but for them both, because maybe they both really need this.

 

Sure enough, Izaya hesitates before responding, like he’s thinking through all the same tracks Shizuo has just made, and apparently he comes to the same conclusion because he nods against Shizuo’s chest again and lifts his arms so that they’re resting around Shizuo’s neck, ready to grasp on. Shizuo twists around just enough to scoop Izaya bridal-style into his arms, and Izaya doesn’t make a sound or lift his head from the safety of Shizuo’s shoulder. Shizuo carries him inside and shuts the door with his foot.

 

“Dinner?” Shizuo asks, not sure if it’s a question of whether Izaya has had it or whether he wants it, but he knows what the answer will be either way.

 

“No,” Izaya confirms, voice small in the hollow of Shizuo’s throat. Shizuo’s heart sinks even though he was expecting it, but he just carries Izaya up the stairs to the bedroom and shuts the door behind them.

 

“Wait,” Izaya says as Shizuo moves to put him on the bed. He lifts his head so he can look up at Shizuo from under his dark fringe of hair. “Shower,” he manages, and Shizuo nods and carries him into the bathroom. He sets Izaya on the counter next to the sink and turns the knobs, his stomach turning a little as he remembers the last time he was here, when he puked up a lot of tequila and sake onto that floor.

 

“C’mere,” Shizuo says, even though he’s the one moving towards Izaya. “Let me help?” He asks, a request again, and Izaya nods. Shizuo reaches for the hem of his shirt and starts to lift, smiling when Izaya lifts his arms above his head. Shizuo unbuttons Izaya’s pants next, and Izaya is apparently present enough to hop down off the sink and step out of the jeans, pulling his underwear off in the process.

 

“You,” Izaya murmurs. Shizuo strips off his clothes quickly, because Izaya is just standing in front of him with vacant eyes and hair that smells like smoke, not moving to enter the shower at all, his eyes downcast as he stares at the floor.

 

“Here,” Shizuo says, putting his hands on Izaya’s hips and hoping he’ll get the hint. He does, arms coming to wrap around Shizuo’s neck, and Shizuo lifts Izaya into his arms like a child, one leg on either side of Shizuo’s body. They’ve had sex like this before, but there’s nothing lusty about this at all, and Shizuo feels like his heart might melt with how much he just wants Izaya here with him, even if he’s not talking and he’s kind of a mess and there’s probably no explanation for it, at least not one that Shizuo will hear.

 

Izaya climbs down as soon as they step into the shower. He reaches mechanically for the shampoo bottle and snaps it open.

 

“Want me to?” Shizuo asks, keeping his voice low and melodic in the small, reverberating space. Izaya looks up at him with that startled expression from earlier, apparently genuinely surprised that Shizuo is offering, but then he shakes his head. Shizuo nods and says, “Okay,” reaching for the soap on the shelf just above Izaya’s head and lathering himself up. Izaya rubs shampoo into his hair with his eyes closed, and Shizuo thinks maybe he doesn’t want to be touched for a while, so he doesn’t. They get through the entire shower routine that way, passing soap and shampoo and conditioner between them, never touching. It’s Izaya who finally turns off the water, and then he turns to Shizuo with his body set in a firm line and speaks.

 

“You don’t have to stay,” he says, forcing the words from between clenched teeth as if speaking hurts, and the look of vulnerability on his face makes Shizuo’s heart feel like it’s breaking. He’s not sure if Izaya actually means the words or if he’s just saying them to make Shizuo feel better, so he doesn’t nod right away, instead studying Izaya’s eyes for some sign that he wants Shizuo to stay or go. It’s hard to tell, really, but everything Shizuo has seen says he should at least offer, and he realizes that he really fucking does not want to leave, so he bites his lip and doesn’t move.

 

“I want to stay, Izaya. But only if you’ll let me.” Shizuo holds his gaze steady, and Izaya looks a little more distressed, maybe because he’s now being required to make a decision, and Shizuo feels instant regret for putting that on Izaya and takes a step forward, still careful not to touch the trembling informant.

 

It’s weird, the urge that Shizuo gets at that point, but he goes with it because he kind of thinks that it might actually help. He kneels down so that he has to look up at Izaya—pretty far up, because Izaya isn’t really that much shorter than he is—and says, “Don’t say anything. Just nod if you want me to stay. And if you don’t nod, then I’ll go, no questions asked. And I’ll text you tomorrow morning to make sure you’re okay, and I’ll come back if you change your mind, and I won’t be hurt or angry or upset. Well, maybe a little bit upset, but that’s just because I really want to stay. But I won’t be upset with _you_ at all. I promise.” It’s probably the most earnest he’s ever been around Izaya, and Izaya looks startled—so startled that he actually manages to laugh, even if his voice breaks off in the middle of the sound.

 

It’s not a happy laugh. “You want to stay with me like this?” Izaya runs a hand through his wet hair, making it spike into a strange mess.

 

Shizuo’s mouth cracks into a wide grin before he can temper the reaction. “Yes,” he says, no hesitation. That just seems to shock Izaya more.

 

Izaya takes a breath and closes his eyes, looking like he’s maybe going to cry. “‘Kay,” he manages, and then he falls silent again and reaches out a hand to Shizuo, who stands up so that Izaya can wrap narrow arms around Shizuo’s still-dripping waist. They stand in the shower like that for a minute and then two, and finally Shizuo draws back to pull Izaya into a fluffy towel, ruffling the terrycloth through Izaya’s hair and eliciting a breathy laugh.

 

When they’re dry, Shizuo scoops Izaya onto his back in a piggyback and carries him into the bedroom. He sets Izaya down on top of the dresser and starts rifling through drawers until he’s got enough clothes for each of them, and since when does Izaya own clothes that will fit Shizuo? He doesn’t question it, though; instead, he helps Izaya into soft pajama pants and a shirt, donning his own similar clothes and then scooping Izaya into his arms to carry him to bed.

 

The room is dark, only the light from the bathroom filtering in to illuminate the space, and Shizuo goes to turn off that light as Izaya pulls back the covers and climbs under them. Izaya is still trembling, Shizuo realizes as he slides into bed, and it looks like Izaya can’t get comfortable, his legs shifting around as he turns onto his side and then his back, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh.

 

“Hey, come here,” Shizuo says, offering his arms, but Izaya just shakes his head.

 

“I’ll just keep you awake. I can’t lie still,” he says, swallowing hard as his eyes dart from Shizuo’s eyes to his lips to his chest to his hair and back to his lips and then his eyes. There’s nothing sexual about the appraisal, really, but it gives Shizuo an idea.

 

“I’m not tired yet,” Shizuo says, and it’s true—it’s probably only eight o’clock, and he feels awake, kind of wired. He could probably do with working off some steam, too.

 

So: “Come here,” Shizuo says again, hoping Izaya will comply without question.

 

Of course he doesn’t. But he doesn’t look angry or even petulant; he just looks exhausted. “Why?”

 

Shizuo grins, trying to make it a little bit cheeky. “Wanna make out?”

 

Izaya looks kind of upset at this. “Shizu-chan, please, I know your sex drive is completely absurd, but I’m kind of not in the mood right now,” he says.

 

Shizuo wants to kick himself for being so dumb.

 

“Wait, no, Izaya, I—I didn’t mean sex,” he says, hoping his eyes look as earnest as he feels. “I just thought you might want some sort of distraction. Just until you fall asleep.” Which looks like it could be any second, if only Izaya’s brain would shut off. “I thought that maybe if you weren’t thinking so much, you could go to sleep. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…to put pressure on you,” he finishes lamely. Izaya takes a breath and studies him.

 

Finally, Izaya smiles a little. “So, you want to make out but not go any further, like horny teenagers who don’t know what to do with themselves? Is that it?”

 

Shizuo swallows and nods, because yeah, that kind of is what he wants.

 

Izaya sighs, a grin playing at his lips. “Okay, fine. We can try it. If it makes me fall asleep….” He trails off and shakes his head. “I know that…that last time, I wanted you to fuck me. To knock me out of…this. But I’m not always going to want that. Okay?”

 

Shizuo nods. “I wouldn’t expect you to. I kind of figured you didn’t really want me to touch you tonight, let alone sleep with you,” he says, and when did “fuck” become “sleep with”?

 

“In the shower. I didn’t. Thanks. For getting that,” Izaya says, shifting closer to Shizuo on the bed. “So? Are we going to do this, or what?”

 

Shizuo nods. “Just push me off if you want to stop, or whatever,” he says, and Izaya nods. “Or—I can stop. And check in. Every once in a while. You can always rescind your consent.”

 

Izaya rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, whatever. Just—”

 

He cuts himself off by crushing his lips to Shizuo’s, and Shizuo is surprised at the force behind the action. Izaya’s lips are moving against his, and he runs his hands up to Izaya’s waist and then skims his ribs with light fingertips, Izaya shuddering even though Shizuo’s hands aren’t even under his shirt.

 

Izaya calms down a little after he realizes that Shizuo is setting a slower pace, their lips settling into a comfortable, almost tentative rhythm, and Jesus, it is kind of like they’re teenagers just making out because they don’t really know how to go any further. Izaya’s lips are parting slowly, Shizuo just barely darting his tongue into Izaya’s mouth before he pulls it back, and Izaya nips lightly at Shizuo’s bottom lip and lets out a short groan. He’s still lying next to Shizuo, technically, and Shizuo doesn’t push it by rolling over onto him or dragging him into his lap. He just presses his lips to Izaya’s a little harder, tangling his fingers in Izaya’s still-damp hair and sighing.

 

One of Izaya’s hands makes its way to the collar of Shizuo’s soft t-shirt, and he tugs a little and whimpers this desperate little sound that send heat shivering through Shizuo’s veins. Izaya smirks and Shizuo realizes he did it on purpose, so he carefully start to bend his knee, making sure it slips lightly between Izaya’s legs, just a suggestion of the friction they probably both want.

 

Still, neither of them pushes it further, not even to take off a single article of clothing. Izaya is drawing back only to dive forward again, capturing Shizuo’s lips and then breaking apart with a gasp, and Shizuo is trembling along with Izaya, and his head feels delirious and dizzy as he presses his lips to Izaya’s and slips his tongue into Izaya’s mouth.

 

There’s still little force behind the action as their tongues tangle, and Shizuo realizes that his arousal is now coming more from what they won’t do than from what they are actually doing, the knowledge that getting off is currently off the table making everything more intense. Shizuo shifts his leg away from Izaya, and Izaya’s hips don’t follow, but Shizuo can feel the frustration radiating off him.

 

It makes him smile, the way Izaya is getting all desperate beneath him, and not just desperate in some romantic way but just plain horny, tense with arousal he’s trying to banish because they’re not going to have sex. Shizuo feels the heat in his veins like they’re filled with kindled fire, and fuck, he’s into this denial too, and he muffles a whimper and keeps letting his tongue tangle with Izaya’s.

 

It’s Izaya who finally breaks away.

 

“Jesus,” he says. “We have to—we have to stop.”

 

“Yeah,” Shizuo says, voice wrecked with how much he likes this, how much he likes Izaya. There’s always something charming and charismatic about the informant, always has been—but now, it’s like every little thing Izaya does is perfect, delightful, mesmerizing.

 

Izaya grips Shizuo’s arms tight and moans like he’s dying for it.

 

Shizuo blinks. “Do you—can you. Um.”

 

Izaya bites his lip. “Maybe it might help.”

 

Shizuo nods. “Do you want help? Or, like. Whatever is fine.”

 

Izaya nods. Shizuo covers Izaya’s body with his own and helps.

 

Afterwards, once Izaya’s pleasure has mounted into something uncontainable and stunning, Shizuo sucks in a breath and watches as Izaya blinks, eyes wide and blown black, but vacant now, less frenzied. It’s easy to let the arousal fade out into simple intimacy, and Shizuo lets his blood cool even as his heart pounds with the affection he feels, the mellow peace in his veins.

 

Izaya blinks and some clarity returns to his expression, and his eyes flicker down before returning to Shizuo’s. “Do you want me to, uh.”

 

Shizuo shakes his head. “Izaya, you don’t have to do anything. We had an agreement. Just making out. Horny teenagers, remember?”

 

Izaya actually manages to roll his eyes. “Horny twentysomethings with enough experience to do something about that, more like,” he says.

 

Shizuo doesn’t give. He strokes Izaya’s hair again, affection swelling in his chest when the informant practically purrs, tilting his head to give Shizuo better access. “It’s fine, promise. I didn’t do that just because I wanted to sleep with you.”

 

“I owe you now,” Izaya says, eyes slipping closed. Shizuo isn’t even sure that Izaya understands what’s coming out of his own mouth.

 

“Nah, ‘Zay. It doesn’t work that way,” Shizuo says, grinning.

 

Izaya smiles, eyes still closed. “I’ll keep track if you won’t,” he says, and Shizuo knows that it’s a joke, kind of, even if he also knows that Izaya really will keep track.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Shizuo says, finally standing and going into the bathroom to get a glass of water. When he comes back, Izaya is lighting a cigarette, and the sight is enough to make Shizuo’s blood warm again.

 

“You okay?” Shizuo asks, pulling the covers down and ignoring the cigarette, figuring it’s better not to challenge Izaya on that front again. The smell of smoke ignites a craving in Shizuo, so he grabs the pack off the nightstand and lights his own cigarette, the first drag of nicotine soothing his strung-out nerves.

 

Izaya finishes the cigarette and stubs it out on the plate he has up here as another makeshift ashtray. It already has a few expended cigarettes on it, and Shizuo is reminded that Izaya has been struggling for two days without him, smoking and trembling and definitely not okay, and probably still not really okay, because Shizuo isn’t presumptuous enough to think that he can magically fix everything with his presence. Izaya sighs, confirming the suspicion. Shizuo feels his heart ache. Even if he can’t fix everything just by being here, he wishes he could.

 

“I don’t think I can sleep still,” Izaya says, sitting up and resting against the wall, his body obviously exhausted even if his mind won’t shut up. “Sorry, Shizu-chan; I don’t think our experiment worked.”

 

Shizuo shakes his head and leans over Izaya to flick ash off the end of his cigarette. “It’s okay. Not your fault.”

 

Izaya lets out a frustrated grunt. “It kind of is though. Or it’s my head’s fault, at least,” he says. “But you don’t have to stay awake with me or something. Shizu-chan needs his beauty rest, after all,” Izaya says.

 

Shizuo grins and Izaya grins back, so he must be at least a little better even if he’s still exhausted and forced awake by his own traitorous head. Shizuo is struck with a sudden desire to know what Izaya is feeling, to know why he’s feeling it, to know what happened to make things go the way they’re going now, both of them awake in Izaya’s bed, smoking cigarettes and trading smiles because Izaya can’t sleep and his head is a little bit crazy right now. It’s not elegant, Shizuo thinks, to think of it that way, but then again, he knows Izaya won’t have gotten some diagnosis for this, wouldn’t believe one even if it were offered. But still, he wants to ask, and so he does.

 

“Izaya-kun? What’s it feel like? Whatever is going on right now?” Shizuo stubs out his cigarette and rolls onto his stomach, resting his head on his palms and his elbows on the bed so he’s looking up at Izaya, who’s still sitting up against the headboard.

 

Izaya takes a breath and looks pensive for a few seconds before he answers. “It just feels…vacant, kind of? Lost? Like everything is out of focus, and for some reason that makes it feel like it’s all out of control, and pointless. Hopeless. I guess. If that makes any sense.”

 

Shizuo nods. “Why?”

 

“What do you mean?” Izaya asks, reaching out to run his right hand through Shizuo’s hair a few times.

 

Shizuo shrugs as well as he can with his elbows holding his chest up off the bed. “I don’t know, I guess…is there something that triggered this? Why does it happen? I just ask because it hasn’t really happened to me ever, or at least not the way it happens to you. And I want to understand. What’s different?”

 

Izaya tenses and drops the hand from his hair, pulling back close to his chest in what looks like a defensive maneuver, and Shizuo suddenly thinks he took a wrong turn somewhere in his questioning.

 

But Izaya only laughs a self-deprecating huff of air and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Sometimes…sometimes there’s a reason, like, one that I can pinpoint. Sometimes…I just think too much, or it just happens.” Izaya runs a hand through his hair and laughs again, and it’s shaky and pathetic and Shizuo wants to cover it with his mouth.

 

Izaya turns his head towards the window when he says his next line: “I don’t think there is a why, Shizu-chan. Some things just are what they are, no reason or explanation for them at all. We’ve got enough of that in Ikebukuro already, don’t we? But this…people don’t like it when there’s not a why for something like this. There can be headless riders of motorcycle horses, sure, but god forbid Orihara Izaya ever feel shitty for no reason, right?” Izaya lets out the horrible laugh again, and Shizuo leans forward to press his face directly into Izaya’s stomach, wrapping his arms around the informant’s back and holding on tight, Izaya’s hands coming up to thread through his hair after a couple of uncertain seconds.

 

“Shizu-chan?” Izaya asks, after Shizuo has had his head buried against the soft of Izaya’s abdomen for probably a minute, maybe more. Shizuo nuzzles in closer before pulling away, taking a breath and looking up into Izaya’s crimson eyes. Izaya swallows, and Shizuo realizes that Izaya is scared: scared of Shizuo’s reaction to what he’s just said, scared because he’s vulnerable and weak right now, scared that Shizuo has the power to take him down forever if he so chooses.

 

So Shizuo leans himself up, and snags another cigarette, and takes a deep drag, and presses his lips to Izaya’s confused mouth, exhaling to let the smoke flow from his lungs into Izaya’s. Izaya whimpers gratefully and brings his hands up to frame Shizuo’s cheeks.

 

“There doesn’t have to be a why,” Shizuo whispers, pressing a kiss to Izaya’s cheek as Izaya releases the cloud of smoke held in his lungs towards the ceiling above them. “I don’t mind. Just as long as I can bring you back to me after,” he says. Izaya shudders and plucks the cigarette from his fingers, and they lie on the bed in silence for a long time, trading this cigarette back and forth and then sharing another, the occasional affectionate gesture passing between them as well, comfortable and safe and kind of maybe a little bit happy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s nearly midnight and they’re still awake, the cigarettes put away now because Shizuo insists he won’t enable Izaya’s blossoming addiction, and this time Izaya agrees. They’re still lounging in bed together, and Shizuo’s surprised to find that the conversation stays dynamic even when they’re both tired and Izaya is emotionally strung-out to the point of near-mania. Izaya is laughing over everything, almost hysterically, and he keeps coming back to himself a little and meeting Shizuo’s eyes like he’s scared of what he’ll find there, but every time, Shizuo just smiles and keeps talking, and Izaya kind of spirals back into madness.

 

“I just know that Celty was actually really mad at Shinra for that, though,” Izaya is saying, his voice tremulous with suppressed laughter. “He wasn’t even going to hurt the cat or anything, though! He was just trying to recreate Schrodinger’s cat,” Izaya says, laughing again. “Although god knows why. We all understand the experiment well enough without having to see it.”

 

Shizuo frowns, but he’s definitely also laughing. He’s glad that he does actually know what Schrodinger’s cat is, once he places the non-Japanese name and thinks back to high school physics class. “Jesus, this is Ikebukuro. The cat might actually end up being both alive and dead at the same time,” Shizuo laughs, the noise escaping him in little bursts that seem to radiate throughout his body. The accidental mental pun on “radiate” makes him chuckle all over again, and Izaya looks delighted and curious, like he really wants to know why Shizuo is laughing this much.

 

Shizuo sits up from where he’s sprawled out on his back to sit cross-legged facing Izaya. “Sorry. I was just laughing because I was thinking about how the laughter felt like it was radiating through my body, and then I realized that since Schrodinger’s cat had to do with radiation, I just…” Shizuo trails off, realizing how ridiculous he sounds, and kind of laughing more about that. “I just felt like it was funny, like a pun sort of,” he finishes off, looking at Izaya with a self-deprecating smirk on his face.

 

Izaya looks amused, and he shakes his head and laughs a little. “It is a little funny,” he acknowledges, “But it also makes you sound definitely high.”

 

Shizuo shakes his head and scoots closer towards Izaya. “You’ve never even been high; you wouldn’t know.”

 

Izaya raises an eyebrow. “You think I’ve never been high?”

 

Shizuo doesn’t even feel a flicker of doubt through him. “You’ve never been high.”

 

“Are you willing to bet?”

 

Shizuo snorts. “How would I even check? You can’t prove it either way,” he admits.

 

Izaya rolls his eyes. “I’ve never been high successfully, if that counts,” he says.

 

Shizuo’s brow furrows, the smirk on his mouth pursing into an amused disbelief. “Nah, I don’t see it. Orihara Izaya, high? You’re weird about taking even prescription painkillers. On what? What did you try?”

 

Izaya lets out a laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

Shizuo laughs. “Shut up, come on,” he says, lilting his voice into a whine.

 

Izaya raises an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” Izaya says, smirking and scooting forward so he can lie down flat against the pillows. Shizuo stretches out on his side next to Izaya’s sprawled-out form.

 

“Okay,” Shizuo says, a little spark of exhilaration running up his spine.

 

Izaya grins and turns his head to meet Shizuo’s gaze. “You first,” he says.

 

Shizuo laughs, not sure why he expected anything different. “Okay, sure. I’ve only ever been high on painkillers,” he says, remembering days in middle and high school when he would get hurt and end up in bed with powerful pain meds swirling deliriously through his veins.

 

Izaya giggles. “I bet that was a sight to see,” he says. “When you used to get in fights all the time?”

 

“Yeah,” Shizuo says. “And yeah, I definitely said some crazy stuff when I was on painkillers,” he admits. “I used to make Kasuka stay in my room whenever I was laid up and high. He was a good buffer between me and the real world. Nice and calm, so if I started seeing weird shit or talking about anything dark, he could stroke my hair and talk until I was okay again. He was also a good defense against worried parents.”

 

“I’m a little disappointed, Shizu-chan,” Izaya chides, a smile still on his lips. “I hadn’t expected you had ever tried non-prescription drugs of course, but I had hoped maybe you would surprise me.”

 

Shizuo’s grin widens. “Come on, flea. You’re the only one here with close enough access to the criminal underworld to get your hands on real drugs,” he says, causing Izaya to snort. “So spill. What have you been unsuccessfully high on?”

 

Izaya looks up at the ceiling. “Weed, obviously. Everything else is too addictive, or too dangerous.”

 

Shizuo nods. “True enough, I guess, although you’ve been smoking cigarettes for the past two days, so…” Shizuo trails off, giving Izaya a playful smirk and ruffling his hair.

 

Izaya bats his hand away and giggles. He shakes his head, a smile on his face, amused disappointment plastered across his face. “Anyways, I’ve smoked weed before, and it didn’t even work, and I eventually gave up.”

 

Shizuo furrows his brow. “‘Eventually’?” He asks. “You mean you tried for a while? Or more than once?”

 

Izaya nods. “A few times, yeah. It was never worth it. And it doesn’t help that I actually don’t have a strong desire to mess around with my state of mind,” he says. “But I think the only time I was actually ever high was when I smoked when I was already drunk.”

 

Shizuo lets out a laugh of disbelief. “Jesus, Izaya, what have you been getting yourself into all these years?”

 

Izaya shakes his head. “Okay, full disclosure—it was all with Shinra. He thought that weed might actually help calm down my head a little bit. He was wrong.”

 

Shizuo shakes his head again. “Shinra? You and Shinra smoked weed and got drunk together.”

 

Izaya shrugs. “We were 15,” he protests, still smiling. “I’m disappointed in my 15-year-old self, but then again, aren’t we all?”

 

Shizuo actually laughs at this, imagining the younger versions of Izaya and Shinra that he knew from high school fucking around with substances that neither of them should be permitted now, let alone at that age.

 

“Okay, I believe you,” he says, almost expecting Izaya to suddenly jump in and say that it was all a lie, that he was making it up as a joke. But Izaya just grins and turns onto his side so they’re facing each other.

 

As the moment gives way to comfortable, affectionate silence, Izaya speaks again. “Come on, tell me something else,” he encourages.

 

Shizuo frowns. “What do you mean?”

 

“Something interesting. More secrets,” Izaya says, his grin so disarming that it looks all the more dangerous. “Come on, I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

 

Shizuo takes a deep breath and sighs. “What else do you want to know?”

 

Izaya shrugs. “I don’t know. Illicit things,” he says. “Tell me about all your girlfriends,” he says, voice lilting seductively.

 

Shizuo laughs aloud. “What girlfriends?”

 

Izaya rolls his eyes. “Come on, Shizu-chan must have had a few girlfriends since high school. Such a romantic person like you wouldn’t have just given it up to me out of nowhere,” Izaya says, still grinning, but now there’s more to the expression, and Shizuo closes his eyes, because yeah, he would, and yeah, he kind of fucking did.

 

His expression must give him away, because Izaya sucks in a breath and doesn’t let it out, and when Shizuo opens his eyes, Izaya is looking at him with a strange wariness in his eyes.

 

“You did, didn’t you?” Izaya asks, but Shizuo knows that the answer is splashed across his face, that the significance of it is growing in the space between them.

 

Shizuo nods once and swallows, not making eye contact. Izaya shakes his head, genuinely surprised. Shizuo brings it upon himself to speak: “I mean, I’ve, like, kissed girls before, and stuff. Only one guy before you, and it was Kadota,” he admits, and winces a little bit when Izaya’s eyebrows shoot up higher into his hair. “He and I actually kind of hooked up for a while in high school,” he says, figuring Izaya will demand an explanation of that one if he doesn’t offer it up willingly. “But nothing more than just making out. So…um, yeah,” he finishes lamely, not even trying to cover his blush.

 

When he looks up, Izaya is shaking his head, a light grin playing across his lips, and Shizuo realizes that he kind of expected Izaya to be mad or something. “Kadota,” Izaya says, turning the name over his tongue with a grin. “I’m honestly impressed that you managed to keep that one from me for so long,” he says, and Shizuo laughs, because it is actually pretty shocking that Izaya never knew.

 

They’re quiet for a minute, Shizuo keeping his grin aimed at Izaya and reaching his hand out to intertwine their fingers. He’s just broken eye contact and is about to sit up to stretch his back when he hears the soft “me too” that comes out of Izaya’s mouth.

 

Shizuo freezes and looks back up at Izaya. “What?”

 

“I gave it up to you out of nowhere, too,” he murmurs, his grip on Shizuo’s fingers tightening a little. “But I think you knew that.”

 

“Oh,” Shizuo says, feeling his mind go blank at the admission. Something in him likes it, really fucking likes it, and he isn’t sure how to say that and so instead he leans forward and presses his mouth hard to Izaya’s, pushing his tongue between the other’s lips, a smile twisting the kiss messy and passionate. Izaya lets out a shocked whimper and Shizuo swallows it down, pulling Izaya into his arms, suddenly pulling back to let out a joyous laugh, throwing his head back and then dipping back in to kiss Izaya again, the smile never leaving his lips.

 

“You’re something else; you know that, right?” Shizuo asks after he pulls away, pressing another kiss to Izaya’s lips.

 

“I aim to please,” Izaya says. “I guess I’ve done a good job?” He asks, and even though it’s clearly a joke, Shizuo feels his heart swell with the need to reassure Izaya that yeah, he’s done a fucking good job.

 

“Yes,” Shizuo gasps, and then he flops down next to Izaya and pulls the smaller body into his, burying his nose in Izaya’s soft hair. “Yeah, you’re the fucking best, Izaya,” he admits, and it feels more like a victory than making Izaya come in his pajama pants, even. Izaya lets out a laugh and shakes his head, but Shizuo just pulls him closer and nuzzles into his hair. Together they lie like that, both of them giggling every once in a while and shifting when they get too hot, pushing at each other’s shoulders and laughing into each other’s chests, talking intermittently and sharing little jokes, and when the sun rises and they still haven’t gone to sleep, Shizuo finds that he really doesn’t mind at all.


End file.
